This is a blog post I’ve been meaning to write for a while, but due to holiday festivities, I’ve definitely been slacking as far as reading, writing, and blogging go. Now that Christmas has once again come and gone, I finally have time to sit down with my computer and catch up on all the work that I’ve so blissfully and willingly ignored. Okay, maybe not blissfully. I actually really, really enjoy what I do. But it has been wonderful catching up and spending time with my friends and family.
A couple of weeks back, I had a girls night with two of my closest friends from high school. We haven’t seen each other nearly as much as I’d like in the past ten years, but I’m hoping that we can change that.
As we sat around in one of their brand new, super fancy, super spacious houses, we started talking about our senior year of high school and where we thought that we would be when we reached 28 (or in our cases, almost 29…).
Friend A thought that she would be married with kids, a house, and a great career. Today, she has a good job and spends most of her free time horseback riding.
Friend B thought that she would be living like a gypsy, traveling the world. Today, she’s married with a great house and a career that makes her good money, but that she’s not all that passionate about. She would rather be an artist.
As for me? I thought I’d be living at the beach and taking care of marine mammals. That’s all I wanted. Part of me still desperately wants for it to happen and dares to dream that one day, it might. I never dreamed that I’d end up writing books. Of course, now that I’m almost 29, I can’t imagine doing anything else.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my twenties, it’s that life doesn’t always play out the way you imagine it will, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing. I know that I’ve written similar sentiments on this blog before, but honestly, it comforts me. I like knowing that things happen for a reason and having some assurance that maybe I am where I’m meant to be in life.